


A Million Dreams

by mysterious_song



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Greatest Showman AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-28 15:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterious_song/pseuds/mysterious_song
Summary: A gift for Love, OQ, based on The Greatest Showman.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glindalovesshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glindalovesshoes/gifts).



> This is part 1 of a gift for the wonderful Eva for Love, OQ.

The constant  _ drip-drip-drip _ of the leaking tap draws Robin out of his slumber. A huff escapes his lips, and as he blinks his eyes open, he has half a mind to put the pillow back over his head and try to reclaim some more precious sleep. 

He just starts to drift back off when he hears the sound of his brother pottering about in the front room. 

Will isn’t usually one to be up before others; he usually makes his way to the breakfast table just in time to eat with him and Roland, and  _ then _ he goes to get ready for his day. 

But today seems to be different; by the time Robin has dragged himself from his pile of blankets, washed, clothed, and groomed himself, Will is already sat at the table with a newspaper. 

When he looks up and sees Robin, he gives an acknowledging nod of the head before greeting: “G’mornin’,  _ Gibface _ .”

Robin smirks. “Same to you,  _ Sorner _ .” 

Their customary insults are exchanged each and every morning, their severity based on their mood for the day. But if all Will can pick fault with is Robin’s jawline, he must have woken up on the right side of the bed this morning.

“If I truly was a sorner I wouldn’t have bought this for ya yesterday,” Will teases, reaching into his satchel on the chair next to him and bringing out a brown paper bag. 

Robin walks over, eyeing Will with suspicion, before gingerly leaning to peek inside. Unable to stop the grin breaking out onto his face, Robin takes the bag and holds it to his chest. 

“I take it all back,” he states. “You’re the best brother ever.” 

Will puffs out his chest, lifting his chin haughtily before straightening his paper and sitting back in his chair. “Well, considering I’m just sponging off ya, I should probably show some appreciation.” 

“You know I don’t mean it,” Robin assures, still wearing his grin as he takes a seat at the table. “Thank you, Will. I can’t remember the last time I had a cup of tea.” 

Will scoffs. “Whatever. Just don’t use it all in one day like you did with the last lot…” 

“Hey! I was feeling nostalgic for England,” Robin defends. “And you say that as if you didn’t have any. How many cups did you have?” 

Will’s mouth turns into a pout, and he grumbles, “not enough”. 

Robin chuckles, standing from his chair and making his way to the kitchen area - though not before batting his brother’s newspaper out of his hands in jest.

He makes it halfway through preparing toast and oatmeal before his son appears - charging in and racing around the scant space they have, making ‘whooshing’ sounds as he weaves in and out of imaginary obstacles.

“Roland, my little hurricane, could you sit down for breakfast please?” 

Roland frowns at his father, coming to a stop in front of the window. “But papa…” 

“No buts,” Robin insists. He makes his way over and scoops his boy up against his hip, both of them looking at the rising sun reflected in the neighbouring building’s windows. “The sun is letting us know it’s time to start our day. We don’t want to be late for lessons, do we?”

“No, Papa,” Roland mutters, wiggling in his father’s grip in an attempt to be put down. 

However, Robin has other ideas, and instead hoists his four year old up onto his shoulders and resumes Roland’s earlier whooshing sounds, weaving his way to the table Will is now setting. The boy’s giggles fill the air, and Robin winces as tiny hands bury themselves in his hair in an attempt to stay upright. 

Roland is deposited into his seat with a thump, and the wooden chair legs creak ominously in protest. 

“I’ll have to talk Marco into looking at that for me,” Robin mutters. “I can’t afford to buy a new one right now.” 

Grabbing at the glass of water placed in front of him, Roland’s gaze finally falls onto Will - more specifically, the mess of morning hair atop his head. The water in the boy’s mouth gets spurted all over the table, and laughter erupts from his belly.  

“Papa, look at Uncle Will’s hair!” 

Despite his disapproving eyebrow raise at Roland’s lack of table manners, Robin can’t help but chuckle at his brother’s appearance. From the angle he was at earlier it didn’t look so bad, but standing behind Roland he can see why his son found it so hilarious. There are strands of hair sticking up in all directions, and there’s a small section matted to his temple. The look of indignance on Will’s face makes it even more amusing. 

“Very funny, Ro. You’re getting more like your father every day.” With a grumble, Will licks his hand and makes an effort to smooth down the unruly strands, combing his fingers this way and that in an attempt to reach some semblance of normalcy. 

When Roland’s chuckles still sound over the table, Will reaches over and ruffles a hand through the boy’s hair. 

“Hey. That’s not fair!” Roland shouts, batting Will’s hand away. “Papa… Tell him!”

Robin, however, just takes a step back, standing still for a moment as he observes his little family mess up each other’s hair, enjoying their time together in the morning before they all go to their respective day time commitments. 

It’s not a perfect life they live, but it’s something Robin treasures. 

It’s predictable. 

And it’s theirs. 

…

..

.

The next morning, their situation could not have been more different. 

Robin has been fired; the carpenters he works -  _ worked _ \- at has lost a shipment, sending what was already a struggling business into a downward spiral. 

After making the announcement and sending his workers home, his boss had slumped in his chair, taken off his cap and wiped a hand over his forehead. 

With a despondent frown and a grave tone of voice, he had confided in Robin that not only was he losing his business, but he was also being evicted. There was a pain in Robin’s chest for the man who had given him a chance when he was last in this position. 

The decision to do all he could to help him was one made within the blink of an eye. It was the least he could do. And so he had placed Marco’s cap back onto his head, gently pulled him up by the collar of his coat, and had taken him to Granny’s house...

To an outsider, Granny is a tough lady, and there’s a gruffness about her which acts as a silent ‘keep away’ barrier to anyone who tries to take advantage. But this lady actually has a heart of gold. 

She runs the Dame School Roland goes to - along with half the kids in the area - and though she may be stern, Roland has done nothing but sing her praises. She’s also been known to cook the children something to eat if their parents couldn’t afford to provide it, or let them stay a little longer if their parents aren’t ready to collect them.

And that’s how Robin knows Marco will be okay; she never turns away someone in need.

Sure enough, when he goes over to drop Roland off for classes, his usual companion of a chippy Will Scarlett replaced by the gentlemanly Marco, Granny greets them with a smile. 

Robin explains the situation, promising his friend needs somewhere to stay only temporarily - until Robin can work something out.

She welcomes them in with a sweep of her hand. 

...

With his own threat of eviction looming over him if he can’t keep up with payments, Robin realises he has to act. And quickly. 

Now… there are two options available to him; apply for every job available until he gets something - following the same pattern of hired-fired-hired-fired he has been partaking in for years,  _ or  _ use this as a opportunity to finally do something he truly enjoys, something more within his control… 

There’s less deliberation than there should have been - his recklessness a leftover trait from his father - and so he heads to the bank, grovels a little, makes assurances that his business venture is a smart one - albeit unusual - and leaves with just enough money to start fulfilling his dream...

…

..

.

It’s been years since Robin has felt this giddy, like a child at Christmas. But here he is, making posters for his new career, singing to himself and dancing around the house, joy radiating throughout his entire body. 

He’s so excited to show Roland too, his boy’s opinion is so important to him, and he has a feeling this will make his whole year. 

It hadn’t taken long to set up, there were already a lot of items included with the building he’d impulsively bought in the morning, and he has been able to source anything else he needed to more closely resemble the idea in his head in the afternoon. 

He’s so excited that he completely loses track of time, and only realises his son needs picking up when he hears the clock tower at the nearby church strike three. 

The giddiness in his veins continues to pump through his body, and when he reaches Granny’s he’s still feeling as if he’s in a daydream.

He spots Marco in the corner of her front room, teaching math to a small group of children, with two triangle pieces of paper in his hands. And aside from the genuine smile on his face, there’s a sparkle in his eye which Robin hasn’t seen before. 

He’s aware of Marco’s struggles to have a child - the man has been nothing but open with his life story - but according to him, being a father was simply ‘not meant to be’. It’s such a shame, Robin thinks, looking at how happy he seems to be in this setting. 

Perhaps this is something that will all work out for him. Eventually.

Though Robin’s moment of reflection is over when Roland catches his eye and stands from the blanket he was sitting on, racing over with a grin on his face. He barrels into his father’s legs, almost knocking Robin over in the process. “I missed you today, Daddy.” 

“I missed you too, my boy,” Robin responds, taking Roland’s hand and waving goodbye to Granny. “I have a surprise for you.” 

The boy’s face lit up, joy shining out his eyes as he smiled. “What is it, Papa? What is it?” 

“It’s a secret,” Robin whispers, bringing a finger to his lips. “But what I  _ can _ tell you, is that it involves animals from all over the world, and lots of famous people…” 

If it’s even possible, Roland’s eyes grow wider, and he’s practically jumping with impatience. 

“Come on, Papa! We have to go now!”

“Are you sure? We could just head back home and-”

“No!” Roland grabs hold of Robin’s hand and starts to drag him outside. “I must see the animals now! I want to see them! Come on, hurry…”

...

Half an hour later, when a blindfolded Roland has been brought into the center of the room and told to open his eyes and look around, the joy and wonder Robin had been expecting merely fizzled into a disappointed frown. 

“What’s wrong, my boy?” Robin asks, kneeling down beside his son and placing a hand on his shoulders. 

Roland shrugs, pouting as his eyes gloss over the figures in front of him. “They’re not real, Papa.”

“Well… I can’t have real giraffes and elephants parading about the place, can I? They’d cause so much trouble,” Robin explains. “And these people are from all throughout history, most of them are from long before I was born.”

Roland doesn’t seem too happy with the explanation, gazing about the place with a huff. 

“Papa, you need something else,” Roland declares. “Something magical.” 

Robin frowns, disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm his son was showing. “Well… I don’t have magic, my boy.”

“But daddy… This is boring.” 

“ _ Boring _ ?” Robin lifts his son up into the air, pretending to let him fall then swooping him low to the ground, inciting a burst of giggles. “Nothing we ever do is boring. How dare you even suggest such a thing?” 

His fingers find his way under Roland’s shirt and tickle his ribs, bringing forth another bout of chuckles. “Are you still bored, Roland?” He asks, but his son can’t catch a breath from all his laughing.

“Papa… st-stop…”

Robin smirks, but continues, prompting: “I can’t hear the magic word, Roland...”

Roland’s hands try and push at his father’s, allowing him a momentary respite. “Papa… p-please?” 

After a few seconds, Robin relents, grinning as he straightens his son’s clothes back out. Both of them grinning. 

His son turns serious again. “Papa… I think you need real people.” 

“Well, we’ll see how the rest of today goes,” Robin counters. “If people want to see something more then we’ll work something out.” 

Roland nods. It’s a deal, one Robin doesn’t think he’ll need this soon. It’s all new; of course people will want to see it. 

They’ll be fine. 

…

..

.

They most definitely are  _ not _ fine. 

They’ve been trying to sell tickets for hours now, and yet nobody seems to want to buy them. Their leaflets are floating to the floor, getting trampled on by feet, hooves and wheels. 

Robin’s initial excitement at this project fades, his understanding of human nature not quite what he thought it was. People didn’t want to see life size animals before their eyes, nor be in the presence of historical legends, and now he doesn’t quite know what to do. 

That’s when he decides his son was right; he needs to inject a spark of life into this adventure. 

He needs interaction. 

And so begins his quest to hire  _ people _ . 

Though, not just any people; he needs the brilliant, the awesome, the sensational… He needs things never seen before, and sights beyond the wildest of imaginations. 

But how to find them? These people are those from outside social norms, likely shunned from society and keeping themselves to themselves - and here is Robin wanting them to suddenly stand in the spotlight with him...

His posters were all wrong. No longer is he advertising for people to come and see a room of stuffed animals and wax figures; he’s wanting people to work for him,  _ with _ him, and provide the most amazing show anyone has ever seen. 

The countless copies he made of the old posters are taken down, and Robin stays up all night creating new ones, relaying a message to everyone who has a talent -  _ any _ talent: the stranger the better - or has been shamed into hiding because of who they are…

‘ _ You are needed _ . Tomorrow - 8:15am - Robin Locksley’s Museum of Curiosity’. 

He doesn’t expect it to work immediately - barely even hopes it will work at all - but come the next day, some of the invitation posters are being taken down before the next ones have even been put up. 

And they’re not just being thrown to the floor with indifference. 

It appears the idea is popular…  _ welcome, _ even. 

Robin can’t help but smile to himself. 

And when night falls and he closes his eyes, he’s positively bursting with excitement at what the next day will bring. 

…

He sends Roland off to Granny’s in the morning for his lessons - making sure to say good morning to Marco - and then makes his way to his Museum. 

His brother is dragging his feet as he trails behind him, though Robin supposes that’s what he gets when he monopolises Will’s day off work. 

“Remind me again why I have to do this?” He grumbles. 

“Because you love me.”

Will scoffs. “Like the devil loves Holy Water.”

Robin turns mid-step, stopping so his brother doesn’t have time to slow before he bumps into him. The glare Robin levels at him wipes away Will’s smile, but then the man stands straighter, looming over Robin with his extra height and giving an intimidating glare himself. 

“Show off…” Robin mutters, more than used to the frequent ‘ _ I’m taller than you _ ’ taunts, and then turns to resume the walk to his Museum.

Will hasn’t been in here yet, but Roland had talked - or rather  _ complained _ \- about it as they sat for their evening meal. 

Once they climb the steps and make their way to the main hall, Will pauses and peruses, before shrugging and nodding his head. “Yeah, I agree with Ro; this is boring.” 

“Shut your mouth and help me set this up,” Robin sasses, gesturing to a heavy, wooden table in the corner. 

The furniture is heavier than Will had expected - revealed by his grunt and grimace as he lifts it. “Bloody hell, where did you get this from?” 

“Watch your language,” Robin warns, before explaining: “Marco had to close his store and get rid of everything in it. He gave a lot of it away. Once this business venture works out I want to pay him for them.”

They shuffle through a doorway and end up in a very long room, a corridor of sorts which leads to the back doors. 

“Here,” Robin announces, lowering the table gently whereas Will drops it with a thud. 

“There’s no more heavy liftin’, right?” 

“Just some chairs,” Robin assures, leading Will to the furniture in question, stored behind a curtain.

They’re piled high - at least two dozen of them all together - and Robin laughs as the smile fades from Will’s face. 

“Come on, brother,” Robin encourages, slapping him on the back. “Let’s get started.”

...

It takes less time than expected to set up the wooden chairs; half of them are placed alongside the edge of the room with their backs to the windows, and then two are put either side of the table. 

“This is like a proper interview,” Will comments, sitting down on one of the chairs and assuming a formal position. “I am so grateful for this opportunity,” he mocks, adopting Received Pronunciation. 

Robin turns to his brother, glaring again as he gestures through to the main hall. “I need some chairs through there.” 

Will stands and bows, delivering an exaggerated ‘ _ yes, m’lord _ ’ before doing as he’s told.

Robin adds the final touches, the posters on the wall, the food and drink in the hall, and the ropes to guide any people to his table. 

And then he sits. 

And waits.

So it begins...

…

..

.

The first person arrives 15 minutes early. A woman, her hair a mass of black and white, and her shoulders covered in luxurious fur. 

“Hello handsome,” she greets, and in all honesty, Robin’s a little taken aback at her bluntness. 

He nods his head in acknowledgement and offers her a smile, before asking; “what is it that you do?”

“I’m an animal trainer, dahling,” she drawls. “You give me an animal, tell me what you want them to do, and they’ll do it.” 

“Incredible.” Robin’s mind whirls with images of all manner of creatures performing alongside his troup - and Roland’s face when he sees them - and he smiles. “I need you. If you’d kindly go through that archway, there will be others who join you very shortly.” 

“Sure thing.” She grins, and then departs with a wink and a sultry; “bye gorgeous.”

Despite himself, Robin smirks. At least he still has  _ some _ appeal to the ladies. 

…

He waits for a little while - apparently not so many people are awake or available at this time in the morning, but not long after there is a queue of people at the doors, and Will is directing them to wait in a line. 

The person at the front is a very large, rotund man, with curly hair and a deep voice. 

He has to be the largest man Robin has ever seen, which leads him to open with the rather unprofessional question: “how much do you weigh?” 

The man takes a small step back, probably not expecting to be asked something that personal that soon.

“Just between you and me?” Robin asks with a smile, trying to build a rapport with the guy. 

Tentatively, he leans forward, whispering in Robin’s ear: “five hundred pounds…”

Robin leans back, acting shocked as he exclaims; “seven hundred and fifty pounds?!” 

The man opposite chuckles and waves a dismissive hand, “oh stop it…”

“You can stay,” Robin grins, reaching out to shake his hand. “Please head through that archway and take a seat?” 

…

The next person along is a blonde and rather shy young lady, a timid smile on her face as she steps up to the table. 

Robin offers his own smile - in an attempt to soothe her obvious nerves. “What is it that you do, milady?” 

The girl hesitates, twisting her fingers in front of her. “I don’t really have a talent,” she admits. “But I’m good at cleaning. I was hoping I could help out?” 

“A cleaner?”

She nods, explaining; “I’ve done it all my life. It’s just… I’ve recently had a baby, and it’s just me, and I need some more money to be able to take care of her like I want to.” 

Robin tilts his head sympathetically, all too aware of the costs of raising a child - especially as a single parent... “Sounds like you really need a job.” 

She nods emphatically, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

It’s no hardship for him to make her life easier, with a simple smile and; “You’re hired.”

...

The next person to approach him is another young lady, with red hair brighter than the sunset. 

“Good Day, madame,” he greets. 

She nods in response, pressing her lips together and fidgeting as if she’s trying not to say something. But she loses her internal battle and promptly blurts out: “I’m a mermaid.”

Robin blinks, unsure if he heard her correctly. “Uh…”

“Not literally,” she explains, giggling at his stupor. “I can just hold my breath for a  _ really _ long time, so my friends always call me their little mermaid.”

“Wow…” Robin’s still in a bit of a daze, but he definitely needs a mermaid in his show. “That’s... amazing.” 

“Thanks.”

“If you go through that doorway you’ll find some other people, please could you wait with them?”

The woman takes a few steps to her right, before pausing and turning back. “Through here?” 

“Yeah.” Robin stands from his seat, leaning over the desk and pointing in the direction she needs to take. 

With a smile and small curtsy, she follows his instruction. 

Robin starts to sit back down, but then his eyes fall on the woman in front of him, a woman so beautiful he loses all concentration, completely misjudging the chair and landing on the floor with a thump. 

The woman quickly steps around the table, and offers him a hand, “Sir?”.

Robin winces as he pushes himself back up onto his seat, politely shaking his head at her offer of help. She doesn’t seem to take offence; she actually still looks concerned, stating; “you’re injured.” 

“It’s Robin Locksley.” He offers her a small smile, a quirk of his lips, and assures her; “And I’m fine.” 

She nods in acceptance, and Robin meets her eyes. 

_ God, she’s beautiful... _

“What- What is it that you do?” He asks, the question which had been rolling off of his lips all day getting stuck in his throat. 

The woman starts looking nervous, pressing her lips together as she studies her palms. 

Robin can’t help but reach out, resting the tips of his fingers over the soft skin of her hands, “it’s okay; nobody is going to judge you here…” 

“It’s not that…” she whispers, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m a witch.” 

That is… not what Robin expected. 

“A witch?” He asks, just wanting to make sure he heard her right. She nods, though not providing any other information. “Like with magic tricks?” 

“It’s not sleight of hand,” she defends, her tone turning a bit accusatory. “I come from a family of witches and warlocks. We each have individual strengths; mine is fire.” 

“Fire?” Robin asks, and he can’t help but let a little disbelief sink into his tone. Not at her, per se, just the situation. 

But she seems to take it as a challenge, holding out her right hand, palm to the ceiling, and creating a fireball larger than the lanterns in the street.

Robin’s jaw drops, stunned and completely in awe. He’s seen some sights today, talents he wasn’t even aware existed, but this is something else entirely. 

It’s… magical. 

Robin’s gaze follows the flames as they flicker and entwine, but then it’s extinguished, and when Robin’s eyes meet hers again, he swears he sees the fire dancing behind them. 

“I want you…” 

The words leave his lips before he has chance to think them over, and when he realises how they could be construed, he quickly backtracks: “I meant; I’d like you to be in my show… please.” 

Folding her hands in front of her, she nods, offering him a small smirk. It’s enough to leave him speechless, and he wordlessly gestures towards the archway to the main hall. 

She makes her way over to join the others, and Robin watches her go with an awestruck smile. 

…

..

.

There are all kinds of people who were directed through the archway over the course of the day. A guy raised by wolves who can mimic their calls, a group of seven brothers who just so happen to all be dwarves, a group of martial artists calling themselves ‘The Black Knights’, a blonde firebreather who may intimidate him a little, an amputee who uses numerous attachments in place of a hand, a doctor who throws knives with deadly precision, a carriage repairer who can lift several times his weight, the tallest guy he has ever seen, and a woman with such an amazing voice it could lure men to their deaths...

And yet, despite all of those amazing people with an abundance of talent and skills beyond belief, Robin’s mind is still focussed on the woman from earlier - the witch. 

She must have cast a spell on him, some enchantment to capture his interest - for he is enamoured with her already. His eyes are drawn to the alcove where she stands, his ears straining in an attempt to hear her voice once more… 

He hasn’t felt like this in a long time, had almost forgotten what it was like, but now his heart tumbles in his chest a little whenever he catches her eyes. 

If he believed in such things, he might even say it was Love at first sight. 

…

The queue finally ends, and Robin joins the group of people whom he has invited to stay - which is practically everybody who approached him anyway. 

He’s not entirely sure of the process from here, but he figures the best way to move forward is to follow his late wife’s advice: follow your heart. 

He rests a hand over his chest, and he addresses them all with whatever words feel right. 

“I’m aware of the struggles most of you have faced in your lives, and I can’t imagine the strength it has taken to come here today, but let me assure you; regardless of what you have been told, or what you believe, you are always welcome here.” Robin takes turns meeting the eyes of the people around him, trying to convey how important this is to him, and how groundbreaking this is going to be in the future; “By doing this, by showcasing the wonders you are all capable of, I’m hoping one day you can all walk out that front door, with your heads held high, and say to the world; I’m not scared, and I’m not ashamed - this is me.” 

The redhead from earlier - the mermaid - starts clapping his speech with enthusiasm, but when she realises that nobody else is joining in, she grimaces and mutters ‘ _ oops’,  _ slowing until her hands are just loosely clasped in front of her. 

Robin smiles, offering her a silent nod in appreciation before he lets his heart run his mind again.

“I can’t tell you this will work out, and I can’t tell you what’s going to happen next: this is all completely unknown to me. However, one thing I can tell you is this; I can’t do it without you. So what do you say?” Robin asks, his gaze travelling around the faces in front of him before it lands on the one person he can’t stop thinking about. The woman with beauty in her soul and fire in her eyes. “Ready for a new adventure?”


	2. Chapter 2

Their adventure heads off to a flying start - literally in some people’s cases - and within a week they all have outfits, songs, and routines to suit their individual style. They’ve all gotten to know each other by now, moving past first name basis and heading straight into nickname territory, forming close friendships and bonds Robin is proud to be a part of.

There’s even been some newcomers to the family - a brother and sister with a knack for flying stunts in the air - who’ve added an extra dimension; now people also have to look to the heavens to enjoy everything on offer.

It’s taken a lot more work than Robin had originally expected, but today is their first show, their introductory performance, and Robin is equal parts scared and excited.

His eyes keep being drawn to Regina, sat in front of the mirror with the others and fixing her hair up and away from her face.

_Gods, she has a beautiful face..._

Judging by the whispers and glances their way whenever they’re in the same vicinity, his fondness for her is no secret amongst his people. He just can’t seem to shake this infatuation that he has for her.

The more he learns about her, the more he wants to know. She keeps things very close to her chest, only letting a few personal things slip through when she’s caught off guard, but it just makes her more of an enticing mystery to him.

Though there’s one thing he knows for sure about her; she has a son.

He’s discovered it completely by accident; he’d been walking down the streets, keeping an eye out for any other weird and wonderful folk who may want to join his show, and he’d seen her - hand in hand with a young boy who couldn’t be above thirteen.

For a moment she’d looked completely different; warm, open, off-guard.

The look was stunning on her.

He hadn’t been noticed, and so he’d tucked into the alley next to him, keeping hidden in the shadows as he waited for them to walk past. The young boy had been talking animatedly, telling stories about kings and queens and magical lands, and Regina had been listening as if he life depended on it. And then as they passed Robin’s hideout, the young boy had simply asked: “Can we have your special dinner tonight, mom?”

There was a slight pause before the child tagged on a ‘ _please_ ’ - presumably at the receiving end of one of _those_ looks from Regina - and a second later she had agreed, but Robin hadn’t really been paying attention to that: too busy mentally recovering after this new piece of information.

He didn’t know what to do with it - still doesn’t. Does he approach her about it? Does he try and steer conversation so she’ll admit she’s a mother? Does he try and pretend he never saw it in the hopes she’ll tell him when she’s ready?

His mind is swimming with everything, a bloody muddle if there ever was one, and it’s all he can do to stay afloat with these feelings he’d long since forgotten how to deal with.

Marian’s passing was nearly three years ago now, and whilst he still feels her loss, that grief has become a part of him, an aspect of his personality that he lives with. He hasn’t courted again, hasn’t really wanted to if he’s being honest with himself. Marian was his world, the thought of sharing his house, his bed, his heart with anyone else has always seemed inconceivable.

But now…

Now he’s not so sure.

Maybe… Possibly… He just might be willing to take a chance on this.

Whatever _this_ is.

…

“Come on, five minutes until showtime!” Robin shouts, prompting a flurry of activity from all his workers. “Come alive, people!”

He glances around at his performers, thinking it all needs a bit… _more_.

He grabs a cushion and stalks towards John, stuffing it under his shirt in an attempt to exaggerate his stature. Next he heads over to Graham, messing up his hair - which he has spent some time trying to tame - and whispering; “be as wild as the wolf, my friend.”

Robin’s next stop is the young blonde he’s grown rather fond of, straightening out a crook in the glittery wings she’s made for herself. “Sort out Neal’s shirt, would you?” he asks, smirking over her shoulder. “Your brother doesn’t really know how to dress himself.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges him off balance as she leaves, giggling when he trips over his feet and into another act.

Robin chuckles to himself, turning to the person he fell into and wondering what he can add to them. But his eyes lock onto a familiar chocolate brown and his mouth speaks before his brain can even catch up; “perfect.”

Once his actions sink in, embarrassment radiates through his whole body. _Keep_ _it_ _professional_ , _Locksley_.

“I mean, I think you’re ready to go…” he amends. “Though not _go_ go, just, ready to get out there. On the stage. With everyone else…”

Robin huffs, his inability to form coherent sentences around this particular woman becoming frustrating. “Regina, will you please just go and stand by the curtain? Thank you.”

The corner of her mouth quirks in one of her elusive but satisfying smiles - the kind that he thinks about whenever he closes his eyes. At least she finds his staggered rambling amusing.

He’s half tempted to call her back to him - if only to try and tempt another smile out of her.

As the minutes pass and showtime draws near, Robin gets more and more fidgety. His fingers tap against his thighs, his toes curl inside his shoes. He knows they know what to do; they’ve been working practically non-stop for days, but it’s different now. This feels real.

…

Lights flash on from the other side of the curtain and that’s the cue for the acts to go on.

Robin watches from the side as his crew go through the musical number they’ve choreographed to perfection - just as he knew they would. Though his heart is pounding away in his chest, his sweat is beading under his clothing...

This is it. The moment he’s waited for.

This is when he’ll know if he has something truly special.

Of course he _knows_ the people out there are talented and deserve their time in the spotlight, but it’s whether the people _out_ _there_ in the rest of the world are ready for them.

Marian had always thought progress in equality wasn’t being made fast enough; she was constantly proving herself in situations she shouldn’t have to, and frequently standing up for herself against people she shouldn’t need to. But she never let it affect her personality; she had a good heart, and was always convincing Robin to follow his dreams, to live his life how he wants to, on his own terms. And this venture, this project that he has wanted to start since he was just a young boy… He thinks Marian would have been proud of it. Of _him_.

Robin hears the music reach his cue, signifying his grand entrance.

Pausing to take a breath and ready himself, Robin closes his eyes and rests a hand over his heart. “This is for you, Marian.”

He allows himself a couple of seconds before he opens his eyes again, and lets his feet take him out into the spotlight.

…

..

.

It goes well, _tremendously_ well - better than anyone expects - and their next performance has their tickets selling out within hours. News has travelled fast of all the awesome and daring acts being performed right before one’s very eyes, and it’s drawn a rather large crowd.

Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t people who disapprove. There’s also been some heckling, some old food thrown on stage, and even a couple of less-than-complimentary news articles.

Though Robin just brushes it off, it’s all part and parcel of putting these people out there for the world to see. He’s thriving off of the controversy; if everyone stuck to being placating to everyone then nothing would get done.

Though on one particular evening he hears a ruckus from outside the back doors, raised voices and glass shattering. It turns out the protesters at his shows are no longer happy with shouting things at the stage; they’re now taking it upon themselves to confront his acts as they leave for the night.

“That’s enough, the lot of you!” Robin shouts to the brawling bunch, freezing John mid-headlock, and Graham mid-bite. “Inside. Now.”

The men all extricate themselves and separate to their respective sides, the women retreating with them and leading the way back into the museum.

Robin glares at the group who dared attack the brilliant people he now considers family. “Don’t let me catch you hurting my people again,” he threatens, pausing a second to let the message sink in before heading back inside himself.

He hears a few faint insults thrown his way as he closes the door on them; “Hornswoggler”, “Ratbag”, “Munz Watcher”...

Though, in all honesty, Robin doesn’t really care; he’s been called worse. When he lived on the streets he had people push him to the ground, kick him in the ribs, spit on him, and all because of his lower status, because they considered him to be beneath them. And that’s not even beginning to delve into his father’s treatment of him…

So, if these _boys_ outside want to get a reaction out of him, they need to try a lot harder than a few common insults. They mean nothing to him.

With a smirk, Robin turns back to the main hall, but his indifference fades when he finds the group looking rather sullen.

“Come on guys; you’re better than brawls in the street.”

“Easy for you to say,” Leroy grumbles, wincing as one of his brothers tends to his bruised eye. “You’re not receiving the blunt end of their anger at the world.”

“They’re just opinions,” Robin points out. “Don’t waste your emotions on insignificant people like them.”

Though that seems to touch a nerve with some, a low murmur sounding through the group before Regina stands.

“‘ _People_ _like_ _them_ ’ used to burn people like me at the stake, or drown us on a mere accusation,” she states, her voice low and fire burning in her eyes. “And you know what they still do to… to-“

She trails off, but Ursula stands from behind her, finishing the sentence with a pained; “people like me.”

“We like you and everything, boss,” Leroy comments - rather tentatively for someone as brash as him. “But we’re not just turning the other cheek for them.”

Robin opens his mouth to speak, but Regina refuses to let him, stepping forwards out of the group to stand to toe with him - rendering him speechless. “Just because you’re unaffected by these people, don’t assume the rest of us are. Show a little compassion.”

Robin watches her go, a little too stunned to do much else. But the sinking feeling in his stomach almost hurts. He knows he’s made a mistake here.

“She’s right,” Robin admits. “I’ve been looking at this from a different point of view, and I haven’t taken yours into account. For that, I am sorry.”

His eyes fall on Ursula, sat between her friends Camilla and Mal, and she gives him a short nod in acceptance.

He knows he should stay, apologise further, listen to more of their stories to understand them better, but his mind can’t really concentrate on that; it’s too busy wondering if Regina’s okay.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment?” He asks, not really waiting for a response before travelling the same path she took.

He just hopes she hasn’t left yet.

…

He’s in luck; following a slow, repetitive thwump sound, Robin finds Regina behind the stage, throwing knives at Remy’s targets.

She doesn’t have perfect aim - barely even reaches the center two rings - but what she lacks in technique she makes up for in sheer force to her throws.

Robin’s half tempted to watch her for a short time, but he figures if he leaves her anger to fester there may be another altercation very soon. And this woman can throw fire…

“Not picturing me, I hope,” Robin jokes, announcing his presence and stepping up onto the stage with her.

Regina’s answer is a blunt: “Not yet.”

“Right, I’d better choose my next words wisely then.” Robin’s only acknowledgement is another ‘ _thwump_ ’ of a blade embedding itself in the wood, and so he settles on a deep breath and keeping things simple.“You were right. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

The next knife pauses at Regina’s ear, her throw halted as she listens to him. Only, Robin’s words have also halted, and so he finds himself starting a sentence without exactly knowing how it’s going to end. “I’ve dealt with things like that for all my life, and so it’s difficult for me to-”

As it turns out, he doesn’t my even need to worry about how his sentence will end, as Regina won’t let him finish it anyway. “We’re used to this too, you know? It’s not the first time someone hasn’t liked who or what we are. Nor will it be the last.” With a short sigh she puts the blade down and turns to him, a pool of emotions swimming behind her eyes, and Robin feels guilty for contributing to that. “The thing is; being in here, it… It’s easy to forget that we’re different, to believe we’re not freaks or… or monsters…”

Unable to stop himself, Robin reaches forward and takes hold of Regina’s hands in his. “You are not a monster,” he declares, holding her gaze. And when he still sees doubt in her eyes he repeats himself; “You’re not a monster, Regina.”

Her voice is low and quiet as she utters; “you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Robin turns their hands so Regina’s palms are facing upwards, his thumbs tracing the lines of her hands over dips and swells. “You are capable of great wisdom… and great power… and great love…”

His eyes flicker up to hers on the last one, a confusion furrowing his brow when he sees slight surprise etched into her features. How can this woman doubt what a marvellous being she is?

“You’re stunning, Regina,” he breathes. “In every way.”

His feet take him a step closer on their own accord, and her hands tense in his hold, his fingers trapped beneath hers. Her gaze drops down, and when Robin lowers his to her mouth, her lips part slightly as she takes a short intake of breath…

A clang and clatter from behind them draw them out of their carefully crafted moment.

Regina drops his hands and steps back as if she’s the one getting burned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before she turns to the intruder.

 _Leroy_ , Robin notes with a glare.

“Hey, Queenie, we’re going to walk back along the Main Street together, want to come with us?”

“Um… yeah, sure…good idea...” she stammers, starting to make her way over to him before pausing and turning back to Robin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He sees a multitude of emotions behind her eyes, though mixed with her fear and frustration from earlier, he swears there’s also a touch of disappointment. Was she…? Did she…?

He thinks back to the way her gaze dropped to his mouth when he stepped closer to her, the way her lips parted and her fingers wrapped around his…

It has him thinking that maybe… possibly… he’s not the only one willing to take a chance on this.

...Whatever _this_ is.


End file.
